The Good Father
by Gilded Blue
Summary: Life on Frieza's ship wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination.


**The Good Father**

"Prince Vegeta!" His excited voice sounded throughout the Halls. I didn't have to do much more than turn around and look at him before he lowered his voice. What was he trying to do, get us all killed? "But Sire!" He said, moving closer to me even though the custom was for him to stand behind. "Sire, this is _disgraceful._"

"And you've found a better way to accomplish our goals?" I ask, moving away from him again. Nappa's brows merged together in his frustration. True to his oaf-like nature, he clinched his fist and emitted a low growl in frustration. This is us being diplomatic towards each other on Frieza's ship after I have been called in for a personal assignment, my third, and Nappa has had enough.

"Prince Vegeta," Nappa says, very slow and deliberate through his gathering rage, "I promised your father, the _king of all Saiya-Jins _that I would protect you and ensure your well-being until the time has come and you have strength enough to defeat Frieza once and for all!"

Damn you and your sentimental propaganda. I watch the way that your neck rotates your head, and the way that light reflects in your wide eyes, and I can only growl in annoyance at the idea that you have, yet again, brought my father to the forefront.

His voice rises with his passion. In frustration, but with a deceivingly calm face, I grab my caretaker by the throat and lift him just a little bit. _Damn. _I always hate that despite all of my strength he towers over me. "Prince Veh-gee-tah!" He coughs my name out with difficulty, like it will bring him mercy.

"You want to talk about _disgrace?_" I ask, pulling him closer so that my look of fury meets his purpling face. He stares at me wide-eyed, like he always does when I punish him like this, "_Disgraceful _is the way that every time we meet with Lord Frieza _you barbarians _cannot hold your temper and I'm the one that has to smooth things over so he won't kill us all in the middle of the night. _Disgraceful _is the way that no matter how powerful I get, Frieza just keeps throwing us these _weakling _assignments so that I won't grow stronger, and _disgraceful _is the way that you, a man that has always taught me what it is to be a warrior, cold and ruthless and heartless, are always _incessantly whining _about that weakling of a father I had!"

My temple must be bursting from my skin, as my temper flares at the mention of _my father. _I release Nappa and immediately his hands go to his neck, trying to function and breathe well once again. They always call us _monkeys, _dirty fucking monkeys, that's what they say, but in truthfulness I feel like my men are _dogs. _They're stupid, trusting, and the only way to convey a thought any intellectual step above that of food is to beat it into them.

I am unlike them; it is more than my title and my bloodline. Who the Hell cares about that anymore, anyway? I've come to realize that I didn't ever really care about ruling a stupid planet, I'm right here where I belong. I'm in the midst of constant chaos and carnage, mercy and kindness are fleeting thoughts for the weak. I'm working my way up the ladder, not being spoon-fed lies about my infinite greatness, and best of all I get to leave people writhing in their own blood and broken hopes before I sell their planets at a huge profit on behalf of the good father, the better father, Lord Frieza.

Don't let my sarcasm scare you away. Disgust at myself and everyone else washes over me: Nappa's weakness, Radtiz's incompetence, and my own inability to break free of this madness.

**When He Calls Me to His Throne: **

"Ah, Vegeta," Already his voice slithers about my body and I cringe despite myself, "my shining little star." He's swirling wine in a jewel-encrusted goblet. "I'm so pleased that you've come to join me."

My hatred makes my teeth tingle. I manage a stiff bow. Meeting Frieza's eyes directly would only lead to a beating, which likely would please Frieza. "Lord Frieza." I greet him, staying stiff.

"Vegeta, make yourself comfortable." He says, taking a sip with his eyes never leaving me. I stood erect before him.

"Of course, Lord." I say. I want to know what this is all about. Everything about Frieza is unnerving. He's a freak to be sure, and he's starting to sway his tail from side to side, a pendulum trying to decide whether to play with me or just destroy me altogether.

"How have you enjoyed living on my ship, young Vegeta?" He asks, purring, taking another drink. The crimson liquid lingers on his lips like rubies or blood leering at me, sparkling in the unnatural light. Frieza's throne room defines excessive. Everything about the freakish tyrant defines excessive.

The circular windows allowed one to approach the universe and look onward into the clear, empty space. Frieza stood, as if reading my thoughts, and with his arms behind his back as if he were ready to begin speaking of business and not pleasure (thank _whatever_). He strode over, looking onward as he licked his lips with that long, awful tongue. He doesn't look behind to see if I follow him, but I can tell he's waiting for a response. Usually such questions are rhetorical. "The provisions are adequate as always, Lord Frieza." I say, because I'm not sure what else to say.

"How grateful to me you sound." He says, eyes dancing with almost a wild gleam. Immediately I know what this means. Every part of my body shuts down as I wait for the inevitable kick to my ribs. It is bone crushing and when I taste blood in my mouth I have to remember to try to not cough.

He's towering over me now, his eyes are black and narrow and ready for murder and gore. I wipe the blood away from my mouth and look up at him.

"Give thanks to me, young prince, for I have given you everything."

I think it would hurt more than the kick to do this, but only for a second. Some fire inside of me rages at the thought of giving verbal accolades to my abuser, master, and tormentor. I won't meet his gaze, quite, but he senses my pause and lifts me by my armor, sick grin crossing over his face like a black shadow. "Give thanks to me," He says again, this time more sternly.

I look up at him. This time my eyes do match his, and I must have had an insolent look on my face because he throws me against the closest wall. It of course crumbles beneath my weight. Servants working in the room behind it stop to stare at me, some with pity and some with satisfaction, but Frieza barks, "**Go on!**" and they scramble away.

We're left alone again, and my mind races to assess the situation. Being thrown into a wall was mostly just a warning. Mentally I have been split into two parts: the part that wants to fly at Frieza in a rage and teach him what it is to be a Saiya-Jin prince, and the part of me that knows better.

I cannot stand to be submissive to anyone. My chest is throbbing from Frieza's damaging kick earlier. "Young prince," He says again, smiling at me, showing me his white teeth. "I don't believe I've heard how grateful you are to me. Everything I've done for you, Vegeta! What would your father think, to know that his monkey of a son didn't even have the manners to properly give thanks to his generous benefactor?"

_What have you given me but a nightmare? _

"Lord Frieza, forgive me." I'm tense and shaking but my mouth is working and my head is shutting down. I tilt my heads down a little bit. "Your gifts to me have not been overlooked."

"You're on the floor already, why do you not kneel to me as you give thanks to me?" Frieza asks. I didn't bother look up and meet him, but I could tell again he was on his throne, licking his lips. This is like foreplay for the monster.

I change my position slightly, because inciting his anger this early in one of our sessions is not wise. I will be with him for hours, when he gets in these moods and calls me to his throne room to lecture me on how worthless I am and how great and powerful he is. Unable to cope, I finally cough up blood and let out a groan of pain. "Oh, Vegeta," He says, voice trailing off as if the sight brought him to a state of ecstasy. "You are so weak."

No response. Just hatred and black, quivering fire inside of my soul.

"You must be wondering what I've called you in here for."

"How can I assist you, Lord Frieza?" I respond with. I must have been too abrupt with my response, because the answer earned me a cry out in surprise and pain as he grabbed me by the hair and flung me down into the floor. Frieza grinned, pressing his foot against the misshapen armor covering my chest. He savors the sound of my agony.

"Young Vegeta," He tisks a little bit, "I must be hard on you because otherwise I don't think you could possibly learn anything. Saiya-Jins are so slow." His grin widens. "What would your father think, seeing you on the floor? Cower before me, Vegeta, and remember always that you are only here for my pleasure. Lord Frieza," he says, beating his chest a little bit with pride, "is _great, _Lord Frieza's power is boundless." The armor shatters completely and now he's just crushing the fragments into my abdomen.

He has a weird fixation with the muscles on the upper half of my body. Call it some sort of perversion. It burns and shreds my flesh. Already I've hit a place where my body and mind disconnect and I'm relatively numb.

He lets up, getting off of me. "You are here for my pleasure and amusement."

I don't need to response to this; I just need to collect myself. I stand up and blood drips slowly to the floor.

"Vegeta, how old are you?" The curious inflection in his voice makes me cringe yet again. I always wonder why he asks me this, why he's so concerned with my age or the fact that I keep up with the time I've spent on this dreaded ship.

I don't remember. How do I have any way of knowing how old I am? Why the fuck would I care? A day passes, or a month, or a week, or a year, and my life still remains the same. I was fifteen the last time Frieza called me into his chamber like this. "Lord Frieza, I have sixteen years." I'm trying really hard to keep standing.

A lecherous smile crosses his keen features as he gazes down at the armor literally peeling off of my body. "You're young and beautiful, and yet a little short." I hate it when he critiques my body like I'm nothing but a worthless slave. To which I can already hear Frieza reply, _oh, but young prince, that is just what you are. _

I stared hard at him. He was pacing back and forth in front of me, regarding me more like I'm a piece of meat than anything else. "How does it feel, to always have Nappa towering over you? Speak frank and clearly, young prince." He's waiting for me to speak, slashing his tail around in the air like a knife. His eyes glint at me. He's daring me to ignore him again.

"Nappa is tall and strong and a good warrior."

"You know, Prince Vegeta, one of these days you're going to have to dispose of your little man-servant." He grins at me. "I may start to get jealous. I need to be the most important person in all of my subjects' lives."

Oh, but you are Frieza. You control nearly every aspect of my life. This is not the first time Frieza has told me that I will inevitably have to kill Nappa. While 'jealous' is hardly the word for it, "Nappa is my soldier and he is a Saiya-Jin and he is an asset to my work and yours."

He's seized me by the neck and thrown me against the wall. His nails dig into my flesh and I cannot breathe. Still I am calm, I am calm because I am furious, and I am furious because he is staring me in the eye, snarling, "_I _am your sun and your moon, _I _tell you what to do and how to do it! You are my son, and you are my slave and if Nappa ever shows weakness in battle and lives to return, I _will find out _and you will feel pain as you never have before."

My unblinking eyes are looking into his. They are practically pulsating in their madness and rage. His tongue flickers out and the tips of its fork, red and glimmering, brush lightly against the blood smeared at the corner of my mouth.

My body reacts more quickly than my mind does.

He grins. "I see you need a basis for comparison." He is daring me to push back against him and to fight and now I know that we have entered a point of no return. This has happened once before.

**T R A U M A **

"_My father was a great man!" I shout this at Frieza, gathering all of the energy I can. I am crying out in pain and fury as I call the power to my body and a great wind swirls around me. "You will pay for all you have done to the crown of Vegeta!" I bellow this at Frieza, my voice rich with youth and disdain. I believe in this instant entirely that my father will be there with me in spirit, and make me succeed. _

_I charge at Frieza, and at first he humors me. He just moves out of the way, grin on his face the whole time with his arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't give me a single punch. Enraged at my inability to even land a punch on my greatest antagonist, I give a final battle cry and send out the most powerful attack I can._

"_Poor prince." Frieza says, after the dust has come to fall. Servants and guardians come all around to watch me fight and lose against the lizard tyrant. He looks at me, feigning sympathy. "Poor, poor prince."_

_He sends a single fist into my gut. I black out. When I come to, I am in Frieza's personal chamber, chains shackled about my neck, with a demon glaring at me, watching me in the darkness. With a furious yowl, the sort that sends a cold chill about the body, he comes at me. "I am not going to knock you out again, Vegeta. You're going to suffer through this. You may even enjoy it." I feel the tongue run down my ear, then the back of my neck, across my cheek, down my neck, over my clavicle, between my chest, and it is in a lightning- bolt movement. His eyes are shining in the pitch black. All I can see is him. _

"_You will be conscious." Laughter floats from his lips to my ears and rots inside of my head. "You will be _very _conscious, my prince. _"

_I tried. I gave it my all. Failure tastes stale and degrading. _

**Reality setting in:**

"You will never be anything more than what I want you to be, Saiya-Jin!"

"I am your god and you are lucky for the privilege of existing. Because of this you are to do whatever suits my whims, with absolutely no regard for yourself or any of your other weak companions."

"It will be worse next time."

The taste of blood in my mouth seems permanent. I've lost my voice. I will not cry. I'm trying to black it all out, to ignore what's happening to my body. The lashes across my back from his razor tail beating against me are gushing into the metal floor.

I am only left to wonder when it will be over, and I can forget that this has happened. Pay no attention to it. You are not here. This is not happening. You have no reaction to this.

It seems kind of ironic to me later on in my life that as I am being tortured I think of my father. I hear his voice in my blood. He is laughing, and telling me I deserve this because I cannot stop it, and that I am truly weak.

"_Have compassion for nothing. Care about nothing. Emotional attachments are for the weak." _

**Being Taught Cruelty (Paternal Responsibility 101): **

"Vegeta, how many years are you?" He has summoned me to his private lair. His tail is swishing back and forth in the air but I'm not looking at any of that. I'm still in a kneeling position on the floor because he hasn't relieved me of it since I entered his chamber.

"I have seventeen years, Lord Frieza." I respond. My tone is mechanical. He looks down at me.

"This is my very own prince," Frieza says, grin placed on his lips. "One of these days I may just make him a very powerful man. He's like a son to me." A crowd snickers very slowly and I feel eyes all around me focusing on my body. I realize for the first time that there are several other people in the room. I look up despite myself and Frieza does not kick my head back. This is a surprise in itself. I know now that this is all an act. These are a gritty type. I am probably more powerful than all of them put together, but Frieza serves them wine.

"I don't understand what it is about his type that you find so appealing." The slave trader scoffs at me and I stand, ready immediately to punish his insolence before the Saiya-Jin prince.

"He's kind of my charity case, you see. His worthless father could do nothing to protect his planet; I'm all he has in the whole universe!" Maniacal laughter fills the air. "His father, the _king, _was the worst and weakest slob among them, and he sent his first born son off like he was nothing." Frieza's hand grasps my shoulder but he says not a word to me. "His planet was actually so fragile that it only took a medium-sized asteroid to make contact with it before it shattered. Luckily, the young prince was touring my ship at the time." Frieza laughs again.

"He was lucky, indeed, because, the boy being my guest and all, I took it upon myself to care for him. He's my ward." I always resent being spoken of in this manner. Zarbon is in the room as well and he scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. "As my charge, it's my paternal responsibility to ensure that Vegeta knows how to treat a whore." Before the slave trader can say _Of course, Sire, _and I can widen my eyes as I realize exactly what is about to happen, Zarbon scoffs once again, this time louder. Now he has Frieza's attention.

"You've met my personal bodyguard." Frieza gestures towards him, but makes no further mention of the fool. This of course leaves him raging in the corner. Freak. And of course, Frieza takes advantage of his little _crush _on him. He uses every opportunity possible to make Zarbon jealous. I have determined after time that this is because he enjoys Zarbon cornering me in the halls and beating the fuck out of me. For instance, when this is all done, Zarbon will approach me two days later in a corridor and beat into me until I cannot see. "You may leave now, Zarbon. Tonight is Vegeta's." Frieza smiles at him, and then looks back to me. Zarbon is enraged and outraged but he waits outside of the door.

"On with the presentation." Frieza says upon Zarbon's exit.

"Well, you've never seen one like this before," The trader pulls a cord and behind a black velvet curtain is a girl, more gorgeous than I have ever seen in my life. Her skin is like moonlight, bright and light like milk. Her hair was this boldest shade of blue, like an ocean. Her eyes were bright lavender.

I have never seen something so beautiful. She was glowing.

"There are creatures in this world that are very beautiful." The slave trader is saying. Frieza is grinning, but what I don't understand is why he is watching me.

"Vegeta," Frieza addresses me. "Take what you want."

He releases me. The position I am in is obvious. The gorgeous creature, more likely belonging to myth than reality, is pulled out of her cage in chains and made to crawl over to me. The trader, slick and greasy and black grins at me with cracked, yellow teeth. His guards all chuckle lecherously. The only one in the room that is stronger than me is Frieza, and that is all that matters. Still, I have become a pawn, simply there for their amusement. My discomfort becomes apparent at my hesitation.

She looks up at me with sad, pleading eyes. I hate it when wenches do this. Frieza becomes impatient, and slaps the woman's face down with a flick of his tail. She cries out in pain, but immediately I look over at him. "Vegeta," He says again, "Do it. Are you going to refuse a gift from your master?"

I cringe at the word. The slave traders laugh.

"Vegeta, you haven't answered me."

"No." I say, slow and cold.

"No, what?" He's smiling at me.

"No, I will not refuse your gift."

"You will address me as _Lord Frieza _or _Master _when you speak to me, boy!" At this my shoulder is shattered. I didn't even _see _the attack.

"Lord Frieza," I say, holding my arm.

"Good. Now that we have that settled, you may indulge yourself."

His eyes are on fire when he says, "And you will deliver, young prince, unless you want me to teach you to take a woman properly."

I hear the woman 's cries for mercy echo off the walls for years to come, after it has all ended, deep in the night, until it starts to put me to sleep. There was also laughter that mixes in with the woman's pleas and tears. It took me many years to recognize that the flood of laughter was my own.

**A Time Far Off From Now: **

I stare over at my son, a fascinating creature. He is not yet six years old and he is driving me insane. It's been years since I've thought of life on Frieza's ship, and yet when the thoughts do creep back in my mind inevitably my son bounces around the corner, smile plastered on his face, waving at me, unafraid of me, or even bidding me to go play with him. No one ever said I _wanted _to be a father. I have nothing to give him, nothing to share, and I have no desire to be anyone's doting masculine figure. I had no father in any culturally acceptable sense (read: the woman's interpretation) or ideal of the father.

His idiot mother, beautiful and worthless to be sure, shrieks at me often to "spend some time" with the boy. Doing what?

Still, he changes me. Every day I soften a little. The boy is brave, that is for sure. Despite any threats or warnings I give him, he insists upon following me around and even playing pranks on me. Me! Softening as I toy with the idea of becoming a father! How that thought seems to make me so sick. I have not forgiven anything, I certainly haven't forgotten. I am an animal, I am a warrior, I am not a family man.

I cock my head to the side and I see a flash of lavender. I hear the giggles, the sound of a slight scuffle, and turn my head back to focus my eyes on the door to the gravity chamber before me. His strength grows every day. I see potential in him and inevitably a part of me feels a twinge to do something with this opportunity. I twinge at the thought, for this makes me feel more like Frieza than you will ever know.

"Father!" The boy flails his arms about before me. "Father, come quick, or Mom's going to make you eat her cooking instead of grandma's!" I am not done training, and I will not join them. But he will try again tomorrow, and before that maybe I will spar with him, to see how strong he really is. Determination is my son. I like the sound of that, it is vaguely acceptable if not comfortable as it sits on my mind and suits me more and more by the minute. Maybe there are more important things than the past.

He shouts at the door, leaving a little dent on the other side that I do not mistake, that even provides more evidence for the fact that I should begin training my son.

"_Hell-o there! Dad! If you don't come quick, __**I'm **__going to eat __**all **__of our food and you're going to have to eat the __**crap **__that mom makes!"_

* * *

-**CL **


End file.
